


Rather Be

by cristianoronaldo



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristianoronaldo/pseuds/cristianoronaldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>high school seniors. reluctant step-brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rather Be

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this very quickly so, as always, I'm sorry for the typos and/or the plot that doesn't make a ton of sense.

The contents of a garbage truck are not so different from the contents of a human heart. And in any case that they are different, the stretched-to-the-max bags are reflections of the uneven palpitations that dictate morals and existence. Love letters, beer bottles with the sticker peeled off, bloody paper towels, and chipped shot glasses. Broken sandals from that time that one lost couple played on the beach. Dancing shoes from a girl who’s given it up. Piano music from the one who didn’t get into Juilliard.

 

“Are you ever going to throw the trash out? I asked you, like, four hours ago. Can you stop your inner monologue for, like, five goddamn seconds and actually get your chores done?”

 

Fabio was glaring at him from the top of the stairs. If Cristiano could have chosen anyone to become his step-brother, it would have been Fabio, but ever since their parents had gotten married, everything had been tense and jumbled and different. He wished and regretted.

 

“I will,” he said, brushing the garbage truck thoughts aside. “I was just looking at the stuff you tossed.” There was a strange, guarded quality to his voice.

 

A muscle in Fabio’s jaw jumped. “Don’t,” he snapped. “Do not go through my trash, alright? That’s just.” He stopped, fuming.

 

Cristiano waited for him to continue, arms folded over his chest. He was almost amused.

 

“It’s just not okay,” Fabio finished, and he stormed upstairs, just as Cristiano’s sister was walking down, balancing a pile of books in her arms. In his rush to pass her, he knocked the top book off the pile, sending it crashing down to the floor.

 

“Sorry,” he said, frustratedly, picking it up and placing it back on top. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” He stomped his way to his room.

 

She set the pile on the table. “What’s up with him?”

 

“Dunno. He threw away the gift I got him for his birthday last year.” He threw the bag over his shoulder. “I thought he loved it, but.”

 

“He did,” she reassured him. “It’s something else. He’s been weird ever since he heard about Mom and Bernardino.”

 

He shrugged, left with the bag. Threw it all into the dumpster and went back inside.

 

+

 

“When is dad getting home?” Fabio asked politely. He always acted like a stranger in the house when his father was away for business.

 

“Wednesday,” Katia answered with her mouth full. “He’s coming to my game.”

 

“Katia,” Cristiano’s mother said warningly. “Chew your food.”

 

Cristiano kicked Fabio’s leg under the table. He smiled. “He’ll be home in time for Back to School Night.”

 

Fabio jerked his legs away, sat back as far as he could in his chair, and stared at Cristiano harshly until Katia cleared her throat uncomfortably.

 

“I don’t actually care. I was just asking to be polite.”

 

“Fabio,” Dolores said softly, using her motherly tone. “Please. Not at the table.”

 

He nodded respectfully. “Right. I’ll just leave then. I’ve got homework to do.”

 

Cristiano followed him upstairs, paying no mind to Fabio’s angry muttering under his breath. As they were sharing a room until Cristiano could fully move into his own, they had no choice but to silently work on their homework side by side on Fabio’s bed.

 

“If you keep sighing like that, you’re not going to have any more breath in your body.”

 

“I wouldn’t have to sigh like this if you weren’t on my bed.”

 

Cristiano rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

 

“And neither of us would have to deal with any of this if our parents hadn’t gotten married.”

 

“Oh my god. Shut up,” he muttered, scrubbing his paper vigorously with an eraser. Calculus wasn’t easy with his step-brother whining every 0.25 seconds. “Seriously, what the hell is your problem?”

 

“My problem,” Fabio repeated, almost spitting with rage. He was lost, lonely, confused. Cristiano could see it. The other boy was easy enough to read.

 

“Yes. Your problem. What is it? We used to be best friends. I thought you would be happy about this, and then you just.” He threw his hands up helplessly. “You just lost it, and now we’re farther apart than ever. You’re not the only one going through this, you know that right?”

 

“What?” Fabio gasped. “You mean I’m not the center of the universe?” He pushed himself off the bed, gathering his books in his arms. “I’m shocked, Cristiano! You’ve opened my eyes. Let me just go add this moment to the Cristiano Ronaldo Greatest Hits list I have in my Cristiano Ronaldo shrine in the back of my closet.”

 

“We share the closet,” Cristiano said bitingly. “I know of no such shrine.”

 

“Can you do us all a favor and go fuck yourself?”

 

“Can you take a fucking tranquilizer? Every single day, you barge in here and give me death stares, and I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

 

“Nothing,” Fabio yelled.

 

Cristiano stood up, remarkably calm for someone who had just been told to go fuck himself. “We’re supposed to be brothers,” he said, gathering up his things.

 

It was an offhand remark, but it made an impact on Fabio. He looked away, eyes practically shooting daggers. His hand twitched against the book, and something caught fire in his eyes.

 

“That’s the problem,” he said quietly, and Cristiano stopped in the doorway. “We’re supposed to be brothers.”

 

+

 

From that moment on, there was a hollow no, no, no beating against the base of Cristiano’s throat. He slept that night on the couch and the next night on two chairs pushed together in the room that was meant to be his, empty except for two bookcases covered in bubble wrap and cardboard boxes full of his things.

 

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think. He hardly knew how to breathe without looking at Fabio and checking, Is This okay? But anytime he seemed to show awareness or sensitivity, Fabio clamped shut like a box.

 

Fabio’s father returned Tuesday night, surprising them all. They had a late dinner together, and Fabio and Cristiano were seated across from one another.

 

“Did you finish the History homework?” Fabio asked politely, stabbing his green beans.

 

“Yes,” the other boy replied, his tone short, clipped. “I thought the section on the Industrial Revolution was just fascinating.”

 

“Cristiano,” Dolores warned. “Your brother was asking you a question.”

 

Fabio flinched. “Step-brother,” Cristiano corrected.

 

“Cristiano,” she said again, as if his name was an offense in and of itself. “Go to your room. I won’t have that kind of talk at the dinner table. How many times do I have to warn the two of you?”

 

“I don’t have a room,” he said standing up.

 

“Go to Fabio’s room,” she snapped.

 

He picked up his plate, eating as he walked. Casually brushed Fabio’s arm on the way out.

 

“Idiot,” he heard Katia mutter, mouth full of potatoes.

 

+

 

It was dark. They were back to sleeping side by side, both trying to make it as normal as possible by saying nothing, only staring at the ceiling.

 

“I’m sorry,” Fabio said finally.

 

“You don’t have to be sorry for the way you feel. It’s not your fault they got married.”

 

“Not for that.” There was a long pause. He shifted. “For throwing away the gift you got me.”

 

“It’s fine,” Cristiano said cautiously.

 

“I mean it. I did love it. I was just angry, and I needed something of yours to ruin.”

 

“It wasn’t mine. It was yours, and it was meant to make you happy.”

 

“It did make me happy,” he said quietly. “You do make me happy.”

 

Cristiano didn’t answer. He waited until Fabio had fallen asleep to finally turn over, bury his head in his pillow. Shut his eyes as tightly as he could and will himself to think of better times.

 

+

 

He was eating fruit loops at the table, and milk was dripping down his chin. When Cristiano walked in, he wiped it away immediately, sat up straighter, ignored the look Katia gave him as she devoured her pancakes.

 

“What.”

 

“Nothing,” she mumbled around her food. “You’re just acting so weird.”

 

“I am not acting weird,” he whisper-shouted across the table, checking quickly behind him to make sure Cristiano was still preoccupied by his egg whites in the pan.

 

“Do you think he’s hot,” she mouthed. She mockingly fanned herself, mimicking the expressions the girls and boys in her class made when Cristiano walked by. She ended her compelling charade by play-fainting on the table.

 

Cristiano turned around just then to see her head down, arms stretched out above her. “Late night, huh?”

 

“I could say the same to you,” she said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows. She seemed to think it was all a joke, and Fabio was grateful for that. “Anyway, I’m off to school, lovelies. Need a ride?”

 

“I’m not ready yet,” Cristiano whined, ignoring her comment. “I’m not even dressed. Can’t you just wait a few more minutes?”

 

“Fabio, are you ready?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging.

 

“Then, no, Cristiano, I cannot wait a few more minutes, and you will have to take the bus with your adoring fans.”

 

His eyes went immediately to Fabio who looked away quickly, blushing. Katia rolled her eyes, grabbed Fabio’s hand, and forced him out the door, whispering, “Honestly, what the hell?”

 

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. He climbed into the passenger seat, eyes trained on the house. He could see Cristiano through the window, still shirtless, still poking his pan with a spatula.

 

“No. Fabio. What the hell--”

 

“I don’t know,” he said, turning to face her. “Alright?”

 

She held up her hands. “No, you’re right. I don’t want to know. You boys keep your incest-y relationship to yourself.”

 

“Incestuous,” he corrected under his breath.

 

“Whatever.” She jerked the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding their row of garbage cans. “Sorry I don’t google the word incest constantly until I, like, know its declensions.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Are you even supposed to be driving?”

 

“Hey,” she said warningly. “I got my license a year ago. I am a fully-licensed woman, and I deserve to be treated as such.”

 

He held up his hands. “I surrender, you licensed woman you.”

 

After awhile, she smiled sweetly, and he prepared for something meaningful. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and laughed.

 

“What are you laughing about?”

 

“Just picturing Cristiano on the bus.”

 

+

 

Nothing was resolved by the time the weather turned cold. Cristiano moved into his new room, so Fabio no longer had to sleep beside him. Which was easier, but. Fabio also no longer got to sleep beside him.

 

They didn’t do their homework together anymore, partly because Fabio couldn’t concentrate when Cristiano looked the way he did and partly because Cristiano didn’t offer. He figured it was easier for them to spend this time apart. They could pretend to be brothers now, annoyed by the other’s presence, dying to get away. They were nothing like brothers.

 

“How are you?”

 

Fabio gave Cristiano a strange look over the carton of milk. He came up for air, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m suspicious. What do you want?”

 

“I don’t want anything,” he said, reaching into the pantry. He pulled out the protein powder, and Fabio eyed it with disgust. “Just wanted to know how you’re doing. We used to be roommates, and now I feel like I don’t see you as much anymore.”

 

“Well,” said Fabio carefully, “If my heater ever breaks, I’ll consider this an invitation to use your room.”

 

“It is,” Cristiano said firmly. “And even if it doesn’t break.”

 

“Right.” He put the milk away, hiding his face. “Because brothers should spend time together.”

 

“No,” he replied, as if it was simple. “We should.”

 

+

 

So after that, Fabio did what he did best, and he gave in to the other boy. First he brought his homework in, and every night they struggled over math together. Cristiano was good at science, and he became Fabio’s tutor, leaning over his books, brushing his arm, pointing out an answer in a soft voice he reserved only for his step-brother. It was brutal.

 

“Done?”

 

Fabio circled the answer. “Done.”

 

“It’s only 9.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Want to watch a movie or something?”

 

Fabio shrugged. He never considered himself a masochist before. He always thought, why would anyone want to put themselves through more pain when the world is already so generous? But that was before he came across Cristiano.

 

“Come on. What harm can it do to watch a movie?”

 

Lots, he felt like saying, but he kept his mouth shut and rejoined Cristiano on the bed. Cristiano fell asleep halfway through, remote in a loose fist, mouth hanging slightly open. He looked gentle and kind and nothing like the boy responsible for the condition of Fabio’s heart.

 

He shut his eyes for a second, then thought better of it. He dragged his pillow back to his own room, tossing and turning for hours.

 

+

 

They didn’t kiss. Fabio thought that would be the climax. He thought that maybe, after everything, somehow things could still work out. Maybe their parents would get a divorce and somehow still be happy. Maybe Katia would buy them both tickets to the most remote island in the world, and they could spend the rest of their lives there together. Maybe Cristiano would feel the same way. His “maybes” grew increasingly unlikely.

 

Graduation came around. He didn’t expect it to be like it was. Cap and gown, crossing a stage, grabbing a diploma. He felt accomplished and alone. Suddenly he was thrust into this new world that he knew nothing about. Even the way the sun kissed his skin was unnatural. Foreign. He didn’t belong in this place.

 

He excused himself from the living room and walked outside. Cristiano was sitting near the pool, trying to distance himself from their joint graduation party. He had on a suit, a loosened tie, and a pink party hat. Someone had tied ribbon to the top of his hat and it hung loose, draping down to his shoulders like a plastic, shiny wig.

 

Fabio sat on the ground beside him, folding his hands in his lap. He was content just to sit there and not speak, knowing it was one of the last times they would be able to do this before they both went off to college, taking on the unfamiliar landscape in the only ways they knew.

 

But-- “Are you happy?”

 

Fabio shrugged. “I think so.”

 

“What’s there to be unsure of?”

 

Fabio just looked at him. When the understanding was reached, Fabio’s gaze returned to his hands. “There are always things to be unsure of.”

 

“Will I see you often?”

 

“Yes,” he said, urgency rising in his voice as someone called their names from the house. “Yes, I think you will.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> as always, comment with questions or thoughts (positive or negative!) I'm sorry about the High School AU (Helpless) not being updated recently. I'll try to get back to that, but I just can't even think about Xabi Alonso right now.


End file.
